A little boy was sitting on the floor in his room. He was five or six years old. He had started meditating at that age. But he was not very successful.
All the Qi he was absorbing from the outside world was disappearing, in a way he couldn't understand. People didn't tell him that this would happen.
The little boy began to push himself harder. Despite his age, he understood how the world worked. He knew that this meditation was the most important thing he could do.
He continued to focus. There was an eagerness in him. He believed that something would happen.
His room was very well designed. It had a nice bed, a big wardrobe, a full-length mirror and a couple of weapon hangers. Of course the hangers were empty.
The boy continued to focus for a while. The Qi flowing inside him was disappearing meaninglessly. This began to discourage him. When he tried some more, his eyes filled with tears.
With anger mixed with sadness, he got up from the floor. He lay down on his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He pounded the bed for a while. Then he raised his head and stared at the wall.
For a few minutes he watched the wall with an angry expression on his face. Then he got up again and started meditating.
A thin layer of blood appeared on his body. It was getting thicker and thicker. It tickled him, but he ignored it.
The blood grew more and more and eventually separated from the boy's body and formed a separate body.
It had holes all over it. It resembled the upper body of a human being. It had no legs. It was suspended in the air. Judging by its size, it looked like a child.
As he continued meditating, blood spirit flew wobbly. It could not move properly. In fact, it was almost unable to move at all. It was even incapable of holding still.
Just then the door to the room opened and in walked a tall, fit and handsome man. He looked no more than 25 years old. He was holding a plate of food. His face bore a clear hatred.
When he saw the blood spirit, he threw the plate against the wall. At the same time, the spirit fell to the floor like a puddle. The boy opened his eyes.
"Didn't I tell you never to do that again!" he shouted.
The boy was terrified. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said as he stopped meditating and leaned against the wall. He put his arms in front of his face in self-defense.
The man grabbed him by the arm and lifted him into the air. He looked at the boy with disgust. "You will obey me, freak. You will do what I give you permission to do."
The little boy was crying out of fear, yet this only made the man angrier. He slapped the boy hard, making his lip bleed.
"Don't cry!"
The child, who had fallen to the ground from the impact of the slap, began to cry louder. His voice made the man tremble with anger. He clenched his fists and grabbed the child by the collar and lifted him up again. "Stop crying!"
The little boy was frightened into silence. But he was taking shallow breaths. His lip was trembling. He could not look the man in the face.
"You are just a disgusting creature. If you don't do what I tell you, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"
The boy nodded in horror. The man put him down hard.
Huan Chao was the boy's father and the man he had to live with. He made money from hunting. He traveled to the Bright Forest north of town instead of the Moist Forest where the younger generation went. The monsters he caught were highly sought after. Even among hunters like himself, he was considered top ones.
But his reputation did not extend inside his home. Huan Chao had lost the only person he truly loved. His wife, Huan Yanmei.
Huan Yanmei worked at Bitter Sea Town's Manual Pavilion. She and her husband, Huan Chao, had a very happy life. They were the envy of everyone, yet fate was not kind to them.
Huan Yanmei died in childbirth. In the best part of their lives, they had wanted to have a child. But their desire dragged Huan Chao's life into darkness.
It took him months to recover. The place in his heart held by the one he loved most was empty. People believed he would love his child, yet Huan Chao felt hatred. No one knew why, but Huan Chao was cruel to his own son.
The boy on the ground crawled back in fear. He was trying very hard not to cry. "Mommy... Mommy..." he moaned.
Huan Chao stopped suddenly. His back was to the child. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He was silent for a few seconds. Then he turned his head and looked over his shoulder. "You killed your mother, freak," he said, and left the room.
When he left, the boy cried silently, sobbing. He had forgotten the blood running down his lip, or the puddle of blood on the floor. He pulled his knees to him and rested his head against them. He wrapped his arms around them and continued to cry.
The food Huan Chao brought him was flowing down the wall. His father wouldn't let him eat at the same table with him. Not once had they ever eaten at the same table. As long as the boy was at home, he didn't leave his room. His father didn't care what he did when he was outside.
While he continued to cry in his room, Huan Chao went to the kitchen. He was actually rich, but he preferred a modest life. The reason for this was Huan Yanmei.
She didn't like to show off. So when they could have settled in a rich neighborhood, they chose a more secluded place. They had spent a lot of money to build this house. Then they filled it with furniture. Now the house was completely empty for Huan Chao.
He opened a kitchen cupboard and took out some wine. He drank from the bottle without even bothering to pour it into a glass. He wiped the alcohol from his mouth with his sleeve.
He sat down on a chair and continued drinking. After a few more sips, he angrily threw the bottle against the wall. Shards of broken glass scattered everywhere.
He leaned his elbows on the table. With his head in his hands, he waited in silence. Although his brow was furrowed, his eyes were filled.
He stood up quickly and dried his eyes. He was back to his usual tough look. He went to the door of the house and came out. He closed the door hard. The noise made the boy cower a little more.
For perhaps an hour, he cried silently where he was. He couldn't do what his father was forcing him to do. Maybe if he could, he would have gained the man's admiration.
It was a need that lay in his soul, even if he didn't know it. The hunger for love from a child who had been raised without it. One kind word from Huan Chao could have made that day "that" day. But the man had never done that.
The boy sat cross-legged again and tried to absorb Qi. Every bit of Qi he absorbed disappeared as soon as it entered him. This angered him too and made him attack his bed, screaming in rage. He screamed for minutes. Maybe he was never going to make it...